


Direct Action

by mattzerella_sticks



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Based on a Tumblr Post, Biphobia, Bisexual Castiel (Supernatural), Bisexual Dean Winchester, Bisexuality, Blond Castiel, Bossy Dean Winchester, Closeted Dean Winchester, Dean and Castiel are both in their 40s, Diners, Divorced Castiel (Supernatural), F/M, Friends with Benefits style, M/M, Marijuana, Mentions of Cheating in relationships, Punk Castiel, Tattooed Castiel, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 04:30:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17573912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattzerella_sticks/pseuds/mattzerella_sticks
Summary: It was a strange night for Dean Winchester. First, he finds out his girlfriend tells everyone but him they're in an open relationship. Then, he meets up with one of the men who hit on her. At this point, anything could happen. So who is he to fight back? If he rolls with it... who knows how it'll all end?





	Direct Action

**Author's Note:**

> Happy 100th fic!! To celebrate, I thought I'd share this little beauty that was inspired by: a) a photo post I've seen on Tumblr, b) a picture of Chris Messina at the Golden Globes this year, and c) making someone besides Lisa the villain in a relationship (she's not completely innocent, but she's not the focus here)
> 
> Anyway, I'm so happy I've managed to write 100 fics (on this site), and am glad to share this with you! Here's to hundreds of more!!

            Dean had no idea what he was doing. Sitting at a booth inside Mabel’s Diner, he stabbed at his milkshake, hoping no one fell into the seat across from him. ‘ _Maybe it was all a joke_ ,’ he thought, glare burning a frothy hole in his drink, ‘ _Yeah, I mean… just some quick thinking to save himself from a messy situation. That’s it_.’ It’s already fifteen minutes since he was supposed to meet him. In another fifteen, he was officially stood up. ‘ _Why do you care anyway? You have a girlfriend back at your place…_ ’ A storm shifted in his mind, expression darkening further after bringing up Abby. ‘ _Although, if it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be in this mess._ ’

            It all began only a few hours ago. Abby swung by after her double shift at the hospital, squeezing in some time together. He prepared her favorite – steak on the rare side with some potato casserole on the side. Dean wanted a special night in since it was the first time in two weeks they’d seen each other. The recent months hadn’t been kind to them, their schedules fitting together like a square peg in a round hole. ‘ _And maybe I wanted this dinner to work because it felt like we were… **drifting apart** ,_’ he rationalized after.

            Although she threw his plans off its course; greeting him at the door, Abby pounced. Leaving their clothes behind them, Dean carried her into his bedroom. In between kisses, he tried to tell her about the dinner. She chuckled. “Hungry for something _else_.”

            By the time they finished Dean knew their meal was freezing. He dug himself out from beneath the covers, flipping it over his face to smile at Abby. Only she was already asleep. Dean pouted, rolling off of her and onto his side of the bed. “I’m glad you enjoyed it, Abby,” he grunted, shifting his hard dick around, “No, it’s okay, I can finish myself off… like _always_.” Tugging at it, Dean worked his boner at an safe pace, squeezing the head and balls arrhythmically.

            He came into his palm, biting at his lip with enough force to tear the skin. Panting, Dean laid in bed, the exhaustion of a heady orgasm rippling through him like stones skipping across a lake. He glanced over at Abby, resting undisturbed even after that. “Of course,” he muttered. Feeling his come start to dry, Dean ambled out of bed and into the adjoining bathroom. Then, still naked, he set about cleaning up the house.

            While picking up the strewn clothing, after having put away the untouched dinner, he heard the familiar chime of a message being received. He searched through the pile before finding it – Abby’s phone. ‘ _Probably nothing, a shift change,_ ’ he thought at first. But then they took a sharp left onto a speeding highway. ‘ _…Or it could be an emergency. She has been getting a lot of those, having to go back into work_.’ It would be at the most awkward times, Dean waking up to find either Abby gone or on her way out, not even waiting for a kiss goodbye.

            Letting his nerves take the wheel, Dean unlocked Abby’s phone. It was her messenger app, the little bubble on the right of her screen filled with a strong, stubble-dusted chin and smirk. His heart beat faster, unsure what a profile like that would be doing contacting Abby. He knew all her friends, and none of them had features _that_ chiseled. It made sense when he opened the message.

            **Hey gorgeous, how are you?**

            Dean’s mind hit an icy patch, skidding and swerving off the road and into a ditch. He stared at the screen, too stunned to respond. Instead he walked back to his room, lying down, revving his engine and spinning his wheels to climb back out of the hole he was in. ‘ _This… it must be a wrong number_.’ But then he remembered it was through Messenger, and not some random text. His blood, once frozen, now rushed around in blazing anger. ‘ _Where does this guy get off… contacting Abby when we’re together._ ’

            Acting on autopilot, Dean shot off a quick text: **She’s sleeping, dude**. Then, feeling cocky, he opened the camera feature to snap a quick picture of himself, sending that as well. Along with: **It’s me, her boyfriend**.

            He wasn’t expecting to see the little dots appear in the bottom left corner. ‘ _Dude has balls…_ ’ Waiting, Dean glanced at the guy’s name, and reigned in a snort. ‘ _With a name like **Castiel** , he probably needed a set to get through life._’

            Dean wasn’t laughing when he read the next message.

            **Hey handsome, how are you? <3**

            There wasn’t _any_ traction left to help Dean. He was stuck, unable to make any sense of the situation. So confused, he sent a follow-up to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. **…Did you just hit on me, after hitting on my girlfriend?**

            Barely a minute passed before Castiel answered **Yes**.

            **How big are the balls you walk around with?**

**It’d be easier if I showed you ;)**

            Dean shook his head, clearing away the fierce blush working its way up his cheeks. ‘ _Can he not take a hint?_ ’ **Dude not interested. Again, in a relationship.**

            There’s a bit of a pause as he waited for Castiel’s latest response. ‘ _Looks like I’ve finally thrown him off his rhythm._ ’ Except it was _his_ rhythm that broke apart when he read what Castiel had to say.

            **I thought** **Abby had an open relationship?**

            His heart plummeted under his bed, mingling with the sex toys and boxes he stored. Typing back with fury, he asked, **Who told you that?**

            **Mutual friend. Plus her FB page says she’s in an open relationship.**

            Dean wanted to believe Castiel was a liar. Some guy that flew a little too close to the sun, got burned, and was spiraling somewhere he could land with only a few bruises. ‘ _And Abby’s my girlfriend, I should trust her_.’ He tapped on the Facebook app. ‘ _We’re coming up on our one year – we’ve been clear about what we want_.’ Dean went to her profile. ‘ _She’d never… never…_ ’

            **_Relationship Status: in an Open Relationship_**

            His vision spun. If he weren’t already lying down, Dean would have collapsed from how weak he felt. Suddenly his left side numbed, as if being that close to Abby was too much to bear. And if that wasn’t enough to deal with, more messages pinged on her phone.

            **Is that not the case?**

**Shit, I’m sorry.**

**Are you okay?**

            Dean huffed a bitter laugh, the taste of it making his lips curl. He typed back: **Would you be okay?**

            Castiel somehow had an answer. **No. In my experience hitting things was more cathartic**.

            **Don’t really feel like wrecking my place.**

**Then would you like to talk?**

            Which is how Dean ended up in Mabel’s. They agreed to meet up there to talk things through in person. It was a strange thing, taking the guy who hit on your girlfriend to a midnight snack to discuss her possible infidelities. But with reality warped already, Dean found their plans the most normal outcome. After wiping the conversation from Abby’s phone, he got dressed and sped over. Dean came earlier than warranted, but because he couldn’t stand being in the same space as Abby for the time being.

            Wanting to turn his mind away from the spiraling black hole thinking of her would lead to, he started researching Castiel Novak. Dean wanted to know a bit more about whom he was meeting with besides his jawline. Granted, his Facebook page wasn’t of much help either. He was worse than Dean, who set up a profile three years ago to Castiel’s five. ‘ _That’s not the only gap…_ ’ Castiel was two years older than him, which might explain the bad angles of his pictures. ‘ _If you’re using Facebook to troll for chicks, you’d wanna not have bad photos that scream over forty_.’ The single defining feature Dean got from Castiel was dark, messy hair.

            “Dean? Is that you?”

            His investigation turned up all the wrong information. Dean whipped his head around, jaw somewhat dropping at the sight. “I thought you were a brunet?”

            Castiel rolled his eyes, taking the seat across from Dean. Now that he had a clear view of him, Dean’s suspicions dropped like flies in the summer heat. Castiel’s hair was a shocking blond, like he drowned it in bleach, a sharp contrast to the sparkling blue eyes and dark stubble that stood out on his tanned skin. ‘ _Who **wouldn’t** want to plaster that face everywhere…_’ he thought, heart pumping overtime once realizing the other man was _attractive_. Even more when he lifted a hand to call the waitress over, and a flash of tattoos peeked out from his leather jacket. Dean focused on gulping down the remnants of his milkshake, hoping the gooey mess would squash some of the embers kindling in his stomach.

            After ordering some fries, Castiel turned to Dean. “I was.”

            “You were what?”

            “A brunet.”

            Remembering the question he asked earlier, Dean blushed. “Why the change then?”

            “…I’m going through a lot.”

            He snorted. “Dude, so am I. But you don’t see me running to the cleaning aisle.”

            “Well your hair _is_ far lighter than mine was.”

            “Yeah… actually when I was younger it was _blonder_. But, y’know… age.”

            They slipped into silence; Dean’s slurping breaking it up every now and then until Castiel’s fries arrived. Castiel took a fry and slid it around the rim of Dean’s cup, chomping down against his spluttering. “Dude!”

            “What?”

            “Did you really dip your fry in my shake?”

            “Well I figured you’d be okay with it, seeing as I’m not dipping my penis in your girlfriend.” Dean choked on the air, glaring at him. “Too soon?”

            He couldn’t be angry for long. Counting to ten, he sighed out his frustration before arranging his face into something softer. Dean brought up the reason they were together. “How do you know Abby?”

            Castiel downed a few more fries before answering. “Like I said – we have a mutual friend. Meg? I’m sure you met her?”

            Dean has. Meg and Abby went way back, having run in the same circles in high school. They went to different colleges, but reconnected recently after bumping into each other at a bar she and Dean were visiting. She had a devilish look, framed by stringy blonde locks. He again stared at Castiel’s hair. “She also the one who suggested you do _that_?”

            “She was just trying to be a good friend.”

            “I’ll bet –“

            “When she told me about Abby, Meg said that she was in an open relationship and always looking for someone to fool around with. I even had her text her to make sure that was the case,” Castiel explained, “Trust me, if I knew the truth, I wouldn’t have approached…” He pulled out his phone, showing Dean the screenshot conversation between Meg and Abby.

            **Hey, ur still in that open relationship right?**

**Yeah, y?**

**I know someone who’s interested. He’ll be hitting u up l8r.**

**I hope he’s better than the LAST guy you sent my way.**

**Don’t blame me. I didn’t know Alistair would be that bad.**

            Dean tried holding back his tears, but one managed to sneak through and dripped onto the table. He sniffled, coughing to cover the fact. Handing Castiel’s phone back to him, Dean went back to stabbing at his drink. “I can’t believe…”

            Castiel reached across the table, placing his hand over Dean’s. He didn’t want the other man to touch him, but couldn’t tear himself away. “I know this must be hard –“

            “Do you?” Dean spat, “You know how it feels to find out you were being lied to by someone you trusted?”

            Castiel withdrew his touch. “Unfortunately many times.” Dean glanced up at him. He stared out the window, as if looking down an endless highway of the mistakes and betrayals he drove through to get to this moment.

            Somehow feeling bad for him, Dean rushed to think of something to say. Remembering what he sent earlier, Dean said, “You mentioned experience before… was a cheating girlfriend part of that?”

            Castiel shook his head. “Cheating _boyfriend_.” He sighed, “Actually, _Zeke_ was the reason I sought out Abby. Needed to sleep away the pain, if you know what I mean.”

            “I do but… I don’t get it,” Dean said, “You had an ex-boyfriend… and you were looking for some _girl_ to sleep with? And you hit on me, too?”

            “Yeah, it’s called being bisexual.”

            “Bisexual?”

            “Liking both boys and girls? You… _have_ heard the term before, right?”

            “I… yes, but – but that’s not a… _thing_ , right?”

            “Who told you that?”

            Many people have told Dean that. When his dad caught him fawning over his posters of Gunnar Lawless and Harrison Ford, he sat Dean down and taught him the ‘appropriateness’ of affection. “You can’t be kissing girls and then going ‘round doing… that to other boys,” John said, “It’s one or the other, and I’ll be damned if my boy chooses the other.” Lisa had a few months into their relationship. He asked her if she ever had thoughts about other girls like how she thought about Dean. After laughing and saying it wasn’t possible, she asked Dean the same question. It hurt to lie like that. And then when he was drunk enough to gain the courage, away from his exes and his family, he messed around with some random guy. It was awkward, limbs everywhere, and his hook up elbowed him in the jaw halfway into his own orgasm. After, when he asked how it was, Dean gave his honest opinion.

            “Not the worst I’ve ever had, but still not that great.”

            “I thought I was your first guy?”

            “Yeah, but trust me sweetheart there were women much better than you.”

            “You couldn’t have enjoyed those.”

            “Who says I couldn’t?”

            “Because you were getting pretty into it on the dance floor with me.”

            “Is there a rule against me enjoying the sex I have with women and the sex I have with men?”

            “ _Obviously_. You’re only fooling yourself, honey – either this was your try at experimentation or you’re not brave enough to come out of the closet. It’s full stop or all in – you can’t stand in the middle and expect anyone to _like_ you.”

            Dean did research before that night, trying to understand his identity. With a few words any sense of self was torn down, and he decided it was too much to pick a side. He hadn’t hooked up with another man since. ‘ _Although looking doesn’t count…_ ’

            He finally answered Castiel’s question. “People.”

            Castiel chuckled, “Yeah? Well people were always idiots.”

            “So you’re bisexual?”

            “Yep.”

            “Have you always been?”

            “Yes, although I didn’t figure it out for awhile,” Castiel told him, “I grew up _very_ sheltered, in one of these communes that was as into drugs as they were Christianity.”

            “So your parents _were_ high when they named you?”

            “For your information, Castiel is an angel’s name,” he said, smirking, “Although they were, most likely, wasted too.” He reached another fry across, pausing before dipping it. “Do you mind?” Dean pushed the cup over to him. “Anyway where was I?”

            “Explaining how you figured out you were…” he waved a hand around, “ _you know_.”

            “Bisexual, right. So I grew up not really thinking anything of sexuality other than _straight_. Did well in home school, met a girl from within the community who shared the same views as me – although that wasn’t hard to do. Got married, had a child, but then on the pretense of a ‘mission trip’ I saw the outside world and discovered there was more to life than what I believed. And that my obsession with play wrestling in my youth was something… _more_.”

            “You were married?”

            “Emphasis on the ‘ _were’_.”

            “What happened?”

            “I told Amelia about my epiphanies, except she took it the wrong way. Thought I was _gay_ and, well... that wasn’t expected nor _accepted_ where I come from. I tried explaining that I still loved her; just that this was another part of me, and figuring it out – figuring _myself_ out made me _happier_. It was… too much for her to handle.”

            “So divorce?”

            “As much of a divorce as you _can_ get when your marriage was performed by a self-proclaimed Prophet of God with no legal certification.”

            “And you said you had a kid? How did that work after…”?

            “I wasn’t allowed to see her, for a while. But she ran away in her teens to come find me. She’s actually in her junior year of college, staying with some friends in South Dakota.”

            “That’s a far cry from California.”

            “From your twang I could say the same of you. Where are you from?”

            “Kansas, originally,” Dean said, “Moved here almost a decade ago after a bad breakup of my own.”

            “Seems like we’re both unlucky in the romance department.”

            “Pretty much…”

            Castiel had a few fries left, and he played with them. He pointed a long one at Dean. “So what made you pick California over… _anywhere else_?”

            “My brother lives here. Has since he finished college. There was nothing really keeping me tied to my hometown… and I missed the kid. So I packed up everything I owned into my Baby and rode the asphalt until I got here.”

            “Baby huh?” Castiel smirked, “Is that what you call the gorgeous black chariot out there?”

            Dean chuckled, scratching at his neck. “She’s a real beauty, ain’t she? How could you tell she was mine?”

            “Classic car belonging to the man with classic good looks?” Castiel said, “Wasn’t much of a stretch.”

            He bit his lip, looking down at his hands instead of at Castiel. “Are you always this flirty with the boyfriends of your attempted hookups?”

            Castiel tapped at his chin, humming off-key. “Not always,” he said, “I guess you’re special Dean.”

            “Oh please, you only want to get into my pants.”

            “Would that be such a bad thing?”

            Darting upwards for a quick peek, Dean found himself lost in Castiel’s hypnotic gaze. It was like being sucked down the whirlpool of a rich, blue sea. And instead of clawing his way to the surface, Dean wouldn’t have minded drowning in them for a while. Shaking himself free from their spell, he pulled back. “I have a girlfriend.”

            “Who cheated on you.”

            “I’m into _girls_.”         

            “So am I.”

            “I’m… I’m not into guys.”

            “Are you sure?”

            Dean shut up. It was as if Castiel pounded on his closet doors, the lock barely holding. ‘ _I… I need to get out of here._ ’ He rose, speeding out of the diner and over to his car. Dean didn’t get in yet, though. Hand on the handle, he breathed deep, trying to clear his mind.

            The gravel crunched behind him. “You left without paying.”

            “Is that why you followed me?”

            “The milkshake _was_ more expensive than the fries,” Castiel said, “But… I also wanted to check on you. You ran like the devil was behind you.”

            Dean scoffed, rounding on him. “And you care _why_? Because you think I’m _this_ close to sleeping with you?”

            “No, because I’m a decent fucking human being and I remember being like this,” Castiel told him, “Scared to confront something I wasn’t willing to accept… afraid that everything will change if I do.”

            “From what you’ve told me it did fuck up your life.”

            “For the _better_ ,” Castiel said, “I’m happier now, far away from the toxic shitpile I grew up in. In large part _because_ I accepted who I am, learning to love the parts of myself I was always shamed for having. It’s exhausting forcing things down… not being who you are. Aren’t you tired?”

            Dean wanted to tell him he wasn’t. That there wasn’t any part of him he was ashamed of. But in the faded neon light of the diner, the prominence of Dean’s under-eye bags and heavy shoulder sag was clear for both of them to see. He answered, “…Maybe… maybe I am.”

            “So what are you going to do?”

            “…Go home?”

            Castiel sighed. “What do you _want to do_?”

            “I… I…” He swallowed his nerves like cheap vodka. “I want to kiss you, so bad. Like, from the moment we met.”

            He took a step closer into Dean’s space, one hand on his shoulder, the other over his on the door handle. “Then what’s stopping you?”

            “Nothing anymore.” Dean leaned in, capturing Castiel’s lips in his. He ran a palm over his cheeks, his stubble eliciting shocks of pleasure along his skin. Tangling their fingers together, he moved away from the car and into Castiel. “Oh God…” Dean moaned, Castiel nipping at his lips before pulling back.

            “We shouldn’t do this here.”

            “Well, do you have another place in mind?”

            Castiel glanced out of the parking lot. “I know one… somewhere out of the way, not far from here.”

            Dean huffed, smirking. “That doesn’t sound murder-y at all…”

            “Please, I want to _fuck_ not kill.”

            “I don’t know… you _did_ say you were raised in some weird cult-thing, right?”

            Castiel glared at him, smiling. “Do you want to screw or keep making bad jokes?”

            “Okay, I’ll stop. Do you wanna drive or -?”

            “Not really,” Castiel said, “I don’t much care for riding motorcycles while sporting a chub.”

            “You ride?”

            He nodded, jerking a thumb to his right. “She’s _my_ beauty.” Castiel wasn’t kidding. Dean turned to see a cherry red motorcycle leaning a few spaces away from his Baby. “An Indian Scout 2016. Runs just as good as my old girl, may she ride in peace.”

            “I’d love to take _that_ for a spin.”

            Castiel shot him a warm look. “Maybe some other time. I’d rather we make other things...  _spin_.”

            “Way ahead of you.” Dean opened the door finally, sliding in. He started the engine while Castiel eased into the passenger seat, his hand resting comfortably against Dean’s crotch. “That’s not the stick.”

            “My bad.” He kept it there.

            “Okay, then,” Dean said, grinning, practically pealing out the parking lot and onto the empty road. He was glad not that many drivers were out that night, since he was going at it recklessly. Half his attention was on the road, while the other was focused on the way Castiel whispered the directions into his ear, and squeezed with each turn.

            At one point he turned the radio on, Led Zeppelin blasting from the stereo. “ _Nice_ ,” Castiel said, head rocking along to the beat, “Zep IV was always my favorite.”

            He couldn’t reach their destination fast enough. Dean nearly bust his nut by the time they pulled off the side of the road into a little hideaway, covered by low hanging branches and bramble.

            “I used to come here a lot,” Castiel said, ambling out of the car, “Afforded a lot more privacy than any of those make out spots teens used… could really go _wild_.”

            “For all the _late_ -in-life rebels like yourself,” Dean said, meeting him back at Baby’s trunk. “So now what do we do?”

            “ _This_.” Castiel spun them around, surprising Dean with a lift onto his Baby’s back. He pushed Dean’s legs open, moving between them to get closer.

            “Oh,” Dean breathed out, “Okay… yeah, I like this…” His hands tangled in Castiel’s hair, while Castiel’s hands rubbed up and down his shoulders. They drifted closer, lips barely touching. That moment lasted as long as it could, like the remnants of a dam that could barely hold back the incoming rush of water. Soon, their last defenses fell, and they embraced each other yet again.

            Castiel ground into Dean, his hands trailing down to brush over where his nipples lie. He reached the hem of Dean’s Henley and lifted, the chill of the night air pricking at his exposed skin. They broke apart long enough for Castiel to dump the Henley onto the ground, while Dean helped him shrug out of his leather jacket.

            Dean stopped then, tracing the lines of Castiel’s tattoos. He lifted his left arm up, studying them. The lines Dean noticed earlier were part of a set of crystals. “Amethyst,” Castiel explained, “a reminder to keep focusing on the positives of life.”

            “Do all your tattoos have cool meanings like that?”

            “Not all,” Castiel chuckled, “I got this one of a robot because I think robots are fucking cool.” He showed off the tattoo on his inner arm, a crescent moon and star overhead. Then, sliding his sleeve up, there was a recognizable sigil inked on his shoulder. “And while this symbolizes hope, I did steal it from a Japanese anime.”

            “Digimon,” Dean said, smiling, “I thought this looked familiar. You watch a lot of anime?”

            “Only the Americanized ones.”

            “You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

            “I’ll take your word for it.”

            Dean turned back to Castiel, then. “You got any more?”

            He smirked, tossing his shirt off in one swift motion. “You tell me?” Dean’s eyes flit across the expanse of Castiel’s tanned, smooth chest. There was a script of text on his side, in words he couldn’t understand. Across from it, three sunflowers of varying sizes grew from stalks that sprouted from out his pants. His right shoulder was adorned with rings, all intertwined with each other. And on his left pectoral, a wolf’s head etched over a splatter of pink, blue, and purple. Dean touched his own tattoo, the anti-possession symbol he and Sam got over their hearts on Sam’s eighteenth birthday. It was roughly around the same place the wolf was.

            Castiel noticed him finger it, and he leaned down to kiss at the center of the symbol. “Have you ever thought of getting more?”

            “Always, but never seemed to follow through.”

            “I know a guy, if the fancy ever strikes again.”

            “Maybe some other time,” Dean huffed, “I’d rather do something _else_ right now…”

            “But of course…” Castiel kissed up from Dean’s tattoo to his collarbone, sucking a mark into the skin. Dean returned his hands to Castiel’s scalp, scratching and tugging every few seconds.

            While his lips were focused there, Castiel’s hands descended to his pants, fiddling with the belt buckle. Dean bucked upwards, helping him out. One leg hooked over Castiel’s ass, pulling them closer. Castiel hauled back, chuckling. “Patience…”

            “It’s been too long since I’ve seen another dick ‘sides my own,” Dean rushed out, breath ragged, “Let alone let some other guy see _mine_. I want them out. _Now_.”

            “Okay, okay…” Castiel worked Dean’s pants loose, while Dean did the same for him. He nearly lost it when he dragged Castiel’s acid-washed jeans down to reveal a thick, leaking cock. Castiel laughed, “Did I forget to mention tomorrow’s laundry day?”

            “Kiss me.” Dean drew Castiel into another heated embrace, his skin burning like a summer wildfire with each touch. While still locked together, Castiel managed to tug Dean’s pants and boxers down, freeing his own hardening dick. Dean knew it had already leaked out a small amount, come smeared to him by their movements. He bit back a curse as a cold breeze blew by, slicing through his dick.

            “Shit,” Castiel muttered, “Do you have any lube?”

            Dean nodded, “Glove compartment.” Castiel disappeared, leaving Dean alone. He supposed, in that moment, it was a risky move. Baby’s keys were left in, and Castiel could hop in and drive off, leaving Dean with his pants literally around his ankles. His brief period of doubt ends, as the door slams shut and Castiel waddles back into view.

            He shook the small bottle of lube, smiling. “Now we’re in business.” Castiel squirted a dollop into his palm while Dean reeled him back in. Dean kissed the other man as Castiel brought their cocks together in his grip. “You good to go?” he asked in between kisses.

            Dean whispered, “ _Yes_.” That was all Castiel needed before he started rubbing his hand up and down their throbbing dicks. Dean groaned into Castiel’s mouth, nails digging into Castiel’s back.

            The experience was… _mind-blowing_. He’d had sex in many different positions, with many happy and willing participants. But it’d never felt like this. Like Dean stood in the center of a thunderstorm, repeatedly being struck by lightning. Or with every nip and tug and pull Dean flew higher and higher – and he wasn’t scared to fall. While Castiel’s one hand played with their dicks, his other went lower to fondle his balls. The sensation made him jump, startling them both into fits of giggles.

            “Testy?” Castiel asked.

            Dean smacked him lightly. “Get back to it.”

            “If you say so…”

            He lasted for another few minutes before stars entered his vision. “God, I’m gonna… gonna…” he yelled out, “C-C- _Cas!_ ” Bracing against Castiel, Dean shuddered out his orgasm, pouring his seed into the other man’s hand. Not soon after, Castiel followed with his own ecstatic cry. He squeezed their dicks with one hand, and Dean’s thigh in the other.

            Forehead against forehead, Dean and Castiel stared at each other in the still night. The only sound was their heavy breathing and the jangle of their dangling belts. Dean blinked rapidly after spurting the last of his come out, vision blacking out in the aftermath. As it came back to him, his entire vision was filled with nothing but Castiel. His mesmerizing blue eyes, sinful lips, sharp jaw with stubble he wouldn’t mind rubbing against for hours; and especially the blond hair, now matted to his forehead with sweat.

            He was overcome with many things, bubbling inside, trying to escape. They burst forth as laughter, shaking him from his core.

            Castiel huffed, smiling. “Was I really that bad?”

            “You were fantastic,” Dean told him, “ _Really_.”

            “I thought so, given the evidence.” He showed off his still dripping, come-covered hand.

            Dean snorted, leaning back against Baby. “You wanna wipe that off?”

            He rolled his eyes, grabbing his discarded shirt from off the ground and cleaning himself up with it. Then, to protect against the chill, Castiel shrugged his jacket back on. Stepping back, he modeled his look for Dean, jeans still halfway down his thighs. “Better?”

            “I like,” Dean chuckled, “ _Very_ sexy. Now help _me_ get dressed.”

            “Sadly…” While Dean shuffled his pants back up, Castiel fixed his own while also tossing Dean’s Henley to him.

            “Could you’ve been nicer with it?”

            “No.” He motioned for Dean to move, and he slid to the side to give Castiel space to sit. He did, pulling papers, a metal tin, and a lighter out from his pocket. “You smoke?”

            “Not since high school.”

            “Would you like to?”

            “Might as well.”

            Castiel unscrewed the tin, dumping a row of ground bud onto one of the papers. Then, after licking and twisting the joint closed, he flicked the lighter on. He took a hit before passing it over to Dean.

            Dean put the joint to his lips, inhaling the smoke. It was sweet to taste, reminding him of apple pie fresh from the oven. He blew out, nothing left but a warm tingle, barely coughing. “That’s some _smooth_ shit.”

            “Thanks,” Castiel said, taking it back, “I had a hand in creating the strain. Wanted to capture that old feeling of _Americana_.”

            “You make weed?”

            “Well no, just that one. I actually sell weed.”

            “… _Legitimately_?”

            Castiel chuckled. “Yeah, you’re looking at the owner of a licensed California dispensary.”

            “Cool,” Dean said, “It rocks being your own boss.”

            “I’ll say – no one can fire me because of how ‘unprofessional’ I look.”

            “And you can come in whenever if you’re feeling hung over.”

            “Sounds like someone with experience owning and operating a business.”

            Dean shied away, scratching at his neck. “Yeah. Bought this garage when I moved to town, spent a year building it up and now it’s doing real well. Enough that I barely have the time to actually _work_ on cars other than my own.”

            “You must be really good at what you do,” he told Dean, “Your Baby runs better than some newer models I’ve seen.”

            He beamed with pride at that, smiling into his next hit. They passed the joint back and forth until there was barely a nub left. The more Dean smoked the lighter he felt, extending the loose feeling in his limbs further up his body. Neck weak, he leaned up against Castiel, legs kicking into the air.

            Castiel chuckled, unprovoked, drawing a curious Dean closer. “What’s so funny?”

            “I remembered, when you came,” he said, “You called me Cas.”

            “How’s that funny? Isn’t that your name?”

            “A shortened version of it.”

            “So?”

            “No one’s called me Cas before,” Castiel sighed, “I liked it, s’all.”

            A thought came to mind, then. One that made flowers bloom in his chest, and butterflies flutter all around his stomach. “If you want, I can keep calling you that. _Casssss_.”

            He blinked at him. “You’d do that?”

            “Well, yeah,” Dean shrugged, “As long as we get to do more stuff like we did tonight, I mean.”

            “That… that sounds well and good but,” Castiel shifted, bumping into Dean, “I _did_ recently get out of a long-term relationship.”

            “So have I,” Dean said, “I mean, I will. Once I go home and kick Abby out. Anyway, I don’t think I’m ready to look for another girlfriend, and I’m not even sure how to go about finding a _boyfriend_. But what we did just now? I’ve never come so hard I blacked out. And I want to experience that again, multiple times.”

            “I… wouldn’t mind that as well,” Castiel smiled, a small flicker of his full wattage. “Tonight was unusual, but also… very _rewarding_.”

            “Very rewarding,” Dean parroted, patting him on the knee. “Y’know… this might be the beginning of something beautiful.”

            Dean knew his high wouldn’t last. He’d have to depart from the safety of this shared space, returning to the life he left behind him in the rearview mirror – although Dean wasn’t going back the same person. In the short time he strayed from his beaten path he discovered untold treasures, carrying them back to value and cherish. Replacing the mirages he once valued, and toppling long-standing pedestals he erected. It would take longer than good sex or smoking a fat joint, but like everything else that night, it was a start.

            And a start was all Dean needed.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Did y'all like? I know I did. And what I really love about this is that there's so much to work with after. Who knows, if I'm feeling it I might add to it. But I have other projects I'm working on at the moment so who knows lol.
> 
> Anyway, drop a kudos/comment to let me know what you think!


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